


Can't Wait Anymore

by Threshie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Feels, Awkward Conversations, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Dean Winchester Swears, Flustered Dean Winchester, Grumpy Sam Winchester, Hurt Dean Winchester, Inappropriate Humor, It's The Old-fashioned Gotta Go Dance And That's it, Love Confessions, M/M, Newly Human Castiel (Supernatural), No There Is No Peeing Kink In Here, POV Dean Winchester, POV Sam Winchester, Post-Hunt (Supernatural), Road Trips, Sarcasm, While Peeing In The Woods, Yes In a Fic About Peeing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 16:35:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21359299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threshie/pseuds/Threshie
Summary: Dean’s leg is hurt, and newly human Cas can’t heal it, so it’s up to Sam to drive the Impala home from their latest work-related road trip (and to try not to strangle both of them for how they’re handling the situation.) Meanwhile, Dean really, really needs to pee.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 21
Kudos: 167





	Can't Wait Anymore

“Rest stop?” Sam asked. Dean groaned from the back seat, shaking his head.

“Next one.”

“Dean, it says there isn’t another for 71 miles.”

“That’s a lot of miles,” Castiel added morosely from the passenger side. Ever since his grace had gotten weak enough that he couldn’t heal wounds anymore, the fallen angel had been kicking himself every time one of the brothers got hurt. 

“Next one,” Dean muttered stubbornly. Sam took a deep breath and got onto the exit ramp anyway.

“Why even ask me?” Dean grumbled.

“Maybe Cas needs to pee,” Sam said over his shoulder. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, Dean.”

“For once I don’t need to,” Cas informed Sam glumly, as if he’d let him down somehow by not hydrating enough while on the road.

“Well I had a twenty ounce quadruple shot red eye 50 miles back, so _I_ need to,” Sam huffed, pulling into a parking space by the rest stop. Dean crossed his arms and made a point of leaning back in his seat and getting comfortable.

Shaking his head, Sam climbed out of the car and retreated into the restroom. With his wounded leg, Dean couldn’t stand on his own, not even next to a urinal. That had made it a frustrating 400 or so miles so far.

Sam knew his brother, and figured he’d give up sooner rather than later. He took his time in the bathroom, washing his hands, combing the windblown cowlicks out of his hair, and telling himself that Cas would lead Dean in any moment. 

Not this time, though. Dean was sick of being hauled in and out of restrooms, having people stare at him hanging all over another man in the process. When Sam returned to the Impala, Dean was right where he’d been before.

So was Castiel, slumped in the front seat with the window down and his arm hanging out over the door. 

Sam sighed and got back into the driver’s seat. They had found solidarity in being sullen, and he wasn’t about to join in.  


* * *

  
It was fifteen after eleven. The Impala’s headlights cut golden stripes through the night, painting the pavement as she purred her way along. 

They were 47 miles into the 71 miles between rest stops when Sam heard a grumble from the back seat.

“Alright, pull over. Pit stop.”

Sam barely suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, but guided Baby over onto the curb. They were in the middle of the woods in the pitch darkness, so of course _now_ Dean needed to pee and had to get out of the car. With all of the road trips the brothers had taken over the years, ‘using the wilderness’ was a perfectly comfortable alternative to using a real bathroom (well, as long as they were out of sight of the road.) Dean couldn’t walk on his own right now, though.

Sam stepped around the car and opened the back door, offering Dean his hand. 

“C’mon,” he sighed. 

Dean gave him an indignant look, though, and shook his head. 

“Dude, I can use the great outdoors without your help.”

“The trees aren’t close enough together for you to get from one to another to lean on them, Dean,” Sam replied wearily. He was starting to get irritated. Dean was probably going to stubbornly try walking on the leg and fall or something.

“I’ll help him.” Castiel spoke up, climbing out of the front passenger seat. Sam glanced down at Dean, who looked about ready to protest. Before he could, Cas added flatly, “Since I can’t heal the wound, it’s the least that I can do.”

Sam looked at Dean and raised his eyebrows. Cas already felt bad enough without Dean refusing what help he could offer. Dean seemed to come to the same conclusion, because he sighed and nodded.

“Okay, sure. C’mon, it’s kind of urgent business here.”

The ex-angel moved around the car and hurried to offer Dean both hands. Dean let himself be helped out of the car, wincing softly as his injured leg bumped slightly against the edge of the seat. Sam noticed Cas’s brows furrow at that, but nobody said anything about it. Sam got into the driver’s seat again and sighed, watching Cas lead Dean off into the dark cover of the trees. Their motel was even further out than the next rest stop.  


* * *

  
Dean wanted the ground to swallow him. This was so frickin’ embarrassing. First he got hit by a lucky shot and wound up with a bad leg, and then he had to have help to piss standing up. Having Sam haul him into restrooms had gotten old real fast. Cas made no complaint as he led Dean along, Dean leaning heavily against him, though. 

He wouldn’t, would he? Cas didn’t complain about much. Suddenly Dean felt bad for being so pissy over his leg. He’d heal up. Cas was graceless forever. 

“Hey, uh…just prop me up against that tree, that’ll work,” Dean mumbled, nodding toward the one he meant. It was rapidly getting darker in the woods, and he couldn’t really see Cas’s expression until the ex-angel turned to glance at him.

“Is that going to work with your hands occupied?” The deadpan delivery did not help the awkwardness of that question. Dammit, Cas. 

“If you weren’t here I’d have to _make_ it work, buddy,” Dean replied sheepishly, shrugging with one shoulder. Cas frowned at him, squinting slightly.

“But I _am_ here, Dean. I could just support you,” he pointed out. 

“A-hem, no, that’s…it’s not that bad, I can just, uh, j-just lean, Cas.”

Dean was pretty sure his face just turned pink, judging by how it was burning all of a sudden. Oh, yeah, Cas’s arms around him while Dean had his hands on his junk, that would go over real well. Shit, now even the thought of unzipping with Cas nearby was making him uneasy.

Cas turned and locked a squinty look on him. There was an ocean of suspicion passing through those blue eyes. Dean stared back and squirmed a little, wanting to shift on his feet but only having the one good leg and Cas’s shoulder to shift between. 

“Cas, just take me to the damned tree,” he said with a note of desperation. If he didn’t take a leak soon, he was gonna spring one. “I’ll manage!”

Cas sighed and rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around Dean’s waist again to lead him slowly over to the tree. Once they arrived, though, he linked arms with Dean…and turned to stand back to back with him.

“Uh, buddy, what’re you doing?” Dean cringed at how his voice went up a couple octaves. Jesus, thirty more seconds and he’d have to unzip whether Cas was there or not. He could’ve sworn his eyeballs were floating already, damn it.

And then there was a sound that made him tense slightly (a dangerous business with a bladder that full.)

_Zzzzp._

“I need to go, too,” Cas said nonchalantly. “You may as well lean against me since I’ll be standing here.”

Dean wanted to tell him to get his own damn tree, there was a forest full of thousands of them, this was so awkward, not a fucking chance he’d actually…

And then there came the sound of something wet hitting the ground, and if there was one thing that could make him need to pee even more desperately than before, it was hearing _that_ sound.

_Zzzzp!_

Swearing inwardly, Dean unzipped and fumbled with himself like a horny teen until he managed to get a grip and pick a goddamn direction and finally find some relief. 

For a long moment, the only sound was soft, wet splashing on the mossy ground. This was the quietest fucking forest Dean had ever been in — where the hell was the wildlife? He couldn’t even hear crickets, and it was the middle of the damned summer.

“Dean?” 

Abruptly, Dean was praying that they could back to silence. 

“We’ve been silent long enough,” Cas said, sounding dubious. God, Dean had actually prayed that, hadn’t he? Things were quiet from the ex-angel’s side now, but Dean had _really_ had to go, and was in fact still going. And painfully aware of how loud it was. And now Cas wanted to _chat_ in the middle of this. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Dean cleared his throat awkwardly, replying in an overly gruff tone, “What is it?”

It wasn’t even the forest setting that was the problem, here. This would still be awkward in a men’s room along the urinal wall. Cas and social cues never did line up real well, though.

“I’ve never, uh, ‘used the great outdoors’ like this before,” Cas said sheepishly. “How do you wash your hands?”

Dean coughed loudly to try and cover up the sound of what else was going on. (How much more could there possibly be? He had to have pissed out half his body weight by now!)

“You don’t,” he managed to say, still gruff to mask the utter embarrassment. Things were slowing to a trickle. Thank fuck. 

A couple shakes, and he was tucking in and zipping up. Cas seemed to take this as some kind of cue, because Dean heard his zipper too. 

Which meant…

Had he been standing there arm in arm with Dean with his dick out this whole time talking? Was he…did he still have his hands on… While listening to Dean’s voice…?

Great. Just as his damned bladder gave him a break, now his jeans felt tight for a different reason.

Dean would’ve slapped his palm to his forehead if the ex-angel hadn’t just made him overly aware of how many germs were on his hands now. They weren’t like that, and they weren’t gonna be. He was dead positive Cas saw this entire ordeal as just helping out a friend.

“Oookay, let’s get back to the car already. Sam probably thinks a bear got us or something.”

Cas stepped around to stand by his side again without letting go of his arm. Dean avoided his eyes. His face felt so hot. They started back toward the trail, but only got about ten steps before Cas stopped again.

“Dean, I need to tell you something.” 

Dean jumped slightly when Cas stepped further around to stand in front of him. Dean was still leaning against him, and practically jerked his hips backward before any poking happened. 

Why him? Why? He just wanted to go home and sleep for a week.

“Dude, don’t touch me with your hands,” he told Cas miserably, trying to sound annoyed so he didn’t sound so sad. This was one hundred percent one-sided. Except for that one time with the reaper, Cas was about as sexual as a potato.

He’d made the mistake of looking at Cas while talking to him, and now couldn’t look away. The ex-angel looked him in the eye intently as he put his hands down to his sides, leaving Dean holding around his waist as the only way to hold himself up. 

“I wanted to tell you how sorry I am,” Cas said. It was quiet and regretful. Reminded again of how permanent Cas’s condition was, Dean again also felt like an asshole for whining so much about his own situation.

“For talking to me while I’m in the middle of doing my business?” He joked, trying to lighten the mood. “Apology accepted, buddy.”

“For being unable to heal you,” Cas said glumly, and utterly ignored the joke. Dean felt his brows furrowing low.

“Hey, that’s not your fault, Cas, that’s—”

“I used to be able to, and now I can’t,” Cas said flatly. “I’m…diminished, Dean. I’m not much use for anything anymore.”

Dean frowned at him and pushed at his chest to sit up further, germs on his hands be damned.

“Listen to me. We don’t care about how useful you are. We care about _you_.” _He_ cared about Cas in a whole different way than Sam did. (Well, he hoped Sam didn’t think that way about Cas. Awkward.) 

Cas broke their gaze, looking unhappily off to his right and frowning.

“I know,” he sighed. Wow, could he sound any less thrilled?

“And you’re human now,” Dean added, as if either of them could forget that part. “I wouldn’t blame Sam for not being able to heal me, so how could I blame you, right?”

Cas studied the ground distantly.

“I’m _just_ human now,” he muttered. “You hardly even looked at me before, and now…” 

He shook his head slightly, and Dean felt his mouth drop open. 

Wait. Hold on one fucking minute.

Cas thought Dean might’ve been interested in his angel self? Like, _interested_ interested?

It took a minute, but Dean finally sputtered out a little laugh.

“Y-you serious?” He asked, heart thudding in his chest. He could feel Cas’s doing the same where his hand was leaned over it. His face was on fire again, and he was doing his best to ignore it. 

“No,” Cas replied too quickly. He still wouldn’t look at Dean. “Just…just forget it, Dean. You’re right, we should go — Sam is waiting.”

“Not ‘til you look at me.” 

Slowly, hesitantly, blue eyes rose to meet his own. Cas looked so sad he might cry. It was like a little jab in Dean’s heart just looking at him that way, and he couldn’t help going over it all — all the times he’d come _this_ fucking close to telling Cas how he felt and then talked himself out of it. 

“Dean—”

“How long?” Dean cut him off, trying to find the answer in his eyes. Cas blinked and looked down for a second, then back to Dean. He got a grim look on his face.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“The fuck it doesn’t,” Dean huffed. “We _are_ talking about the same thing, right? We’re talking about you and me…_us_, together, and I don’t mean like brothers.” 

“Like lovers,” Cas breathed, and closed his eyes. The look on his face made Dean’s chest ache. He looked so fucking wrecked about it, like Dean was going to slap him for even thinking about it. What kind of reaction _did_ he expect, ridicule?

…What kind of reaction could Dean possibly give him that was enough? He felt so damned much about this — about _Cas_ — and no gesture or handful of words felt adequate. Dean’s first impulse was to cradle Cas’s face in his palms, and lean in, and— 

Oh, yeah, and he couldn’t use his hands either. Well, shit.

Sheepishly, Dean leaned in and kissed the tip of Cas’s nose. The guy’s eyes popped open, and he blinked at Dean like he must have imagined it. So Dean did it again. He gave Cas a nervous little smile, then, and gently kissed one cheek and then the other.

“You think I give a damn if you’re an angel or a human?” He asked, his voice husky. It sounded like he was trying to be seductive, but the truth was that he was getting a little choked up. Damn it, he loved Cas so much, and Cas had no fucking clue. 

Cas stared at him, his eyes full of tears.

“You don’t want what’s left of me.”

“Really? It kinda feels like I do,” Dean said, leaning so close his lips brushed against Cas’s. Cas shivered a little and closed his eyes, closing the distance between them. 

Fuck, his lips were perfect. Dean had thought about this so many times, and convinced himself Cas didn’t want it, but if he _did_, it’d be like this or that, or…

This was better than any fantasy. There was something hot about being unable to touch each other with their hands — Dean focused in on that kiss like it was the only thing in the world, open-mouthed and desperate and delicious. When he tilted his head and deepened it, Cas actually groaned, gripping his hips. Dean felt the effect go straight to his cock, and made a pleased ‘hmm’ in return, stepping closer— 

Stepping on his bad leg.

The sudden gasp of pain against Cas’s mouth brought the kiss to an end, the ex-angel hugging him quickly to support him.

“Dean! Are you alright?” Cas sounded so guilty, practically distraught, that Dean hugged his side to reassure him. 

“Y-you kidding?” He chuckled breathlessly, patting his free hand on Cas’s chest. “I’ve wait _years_ for that, buddy. Forget the damned leg.” 

“Obviously you did,” Cas replied dryly, turning them toward the trail and starting to lead Dean slowly that way. He paused, then added quietly, “Have you really waited years for me?”

“_Long_ years,” Dean replied, sighing wearily. “You never did tell me how long it’s been for you.”

Cas didn’t have to take any time to think about it.

“Since I pulled you from Hell,” he said.  


* * *

  
At some point, Sam had dozed off leaned on the steering wheel. He woke to the Impala’s back door opening and closing.

Sitting up groggily, the younger Winchester squinted back at the sight of Dean being helped into the back seat. Cas patted his shoulder and lingered a few seconds too long before closing the door again. Not before Dean smiled at him, though, like they were newlyweds about to go on their honeymoon.

Well, that sure was a 180 in _their_ attitudes… They’d been gone so long, Sam was halfway convinced they’d been doing something more than ‘using the wilderness’, but of course they’d never admit to it if they had.

Cas climbed into the passenger seat and strapped his seatbelt, giving Sam repeated sideways glances like he was checking his expression. Sam again resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Jesus, the two of them weren’t exactly subtle. This was better than sullen grumbling, but only just barely.

As they pulled back out onto the highway, Sam had only one comment.

“About damned time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading my fanfic! This one's definitely more in the crude humor and swearing department than I usually write, but this story had to be told (LOL.) Comments and kudos fuel the writing machine! ♥


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